[img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/342829614500151300/665032096317964308/TomFruz.jpg?width=1119&height=630[/img]

[u]Quiet Basement, Western Farms[/u]

“Hmm. With that, I think it should be done.” Dusting the chalk off from his hands, a one-eyed young man stood up and looked over the fruits of his work. A perfectly drawn circle, with numerous lines intercrossing in formations he didn’t properly understand but were copied exactly as the image he’d been provided by one of his most recent debtors, who had told him about this event as a way to pay off [i]all [/i]of his debts at once. 

Truthfully, he was hoping beyond belief that this time, this was real, and that his problems could finally be resolved, and that he could finally, finally, be gainfully employed!

“Um, fill fill fill fill fill fill fill?” In an attempt to read the smudged instructions written in completely illegible handwriting, Tom scratches his head in confusion. Shrugging his shoulders, he tosses away the instructions and picks up his catalyst. A faded and scratched cover for a videotape placed carefully within the center of the circle, as Tom Fruz began his ritual.

Slamming his head down onto the floor, transitioning into a dogeza pose within 0.3 seconds, he begins to chant fervently, “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-”

The chant continues, for several minutes, with Tom looking nowhere close to out of breath, but crescendoing higher and higher in volume and pitch. His voice does not give out, but the constant bowing and scraping, impacting his head against the floor, means that he is almost at the end of the ritual.

“-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE[b]PLEASESUMMONHERCULES[/b]!”

The circle glows, and the (respectful?) call is answered.

[@Over Illusion]